


Patience Like This

by purebeanshawn



Series: Illuminate x Her [2]
Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Fluff, Passionate Sex, SORT OF i think, Smut, angry!shawn, emotional!shawn, sexually explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purebeanshawn/pseuds/purebeanshawn
Summary: “I care about you. More than I want to. And that scares me. It scares me so much that I sometimes wish we’d never met. I hate that you make me feel this way.You kind of drive me nuts. But somehow I still want you. You mess me up so bad and I still want you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this baby for what feels like ages! But it's finally finished. It also has an artwork that's on my tumblr, purebeanshawn. Hope you enjoy!

Clubs have never really been his scene. He quickly gets uncomfortable when the sweaty bodies of strangers bump into him, and with the occasional bold girl getting straight to the point by wrapping her arms around his neck and grinding up against him. So he stays off the dancefloor and chats with the bartender when she has time to talk, sips from his drink, eats his peanuts and watches his friends dance to the fast paced, pulsating music that blares from the speakers. 

Shawn’s not surprised when a female body pushes up against the bar next to him and starts a hollow conversation about his drink, then claims that she doesn’t know him but says that he looks familiar. At this point, he’s used to women hitting on him once they recognise him; it’s a common pattern. He’s noticed them watch him with their girlfriends before plucking up the courage and making an excuse, to approach him. So, he’s developed a secure routine. 

“I get that a lot, actually,” he chuckles. “But I’m gonna have to disappoint you. I’m not him,” he says when the woman in front of him tells the all too familiar tale. 

“You do look a lot like him though.” She smirks, then bites down on her bottom lip. “Can I buy you a drink?” He laughs nervously, unsure of how to handle her particularly persistent personality.

He looks at his nearly empty glass, and realises he can’t really excuse himself by saying that he already has one, but one drink can’t hurt, right? 

“Sure,” he smiles. “I’m Geoff.” He stretches out his hand for her to shake. 

 

They’re three drinks in when she asks him to dance with her, then promptly pulls him out of his seat without waiting for a reply. She’s quick to wrap her arms around his neck, moving her body close to his. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, but as the songs play and her movements lose their grace, she becomes more inviting to him. They dance close to each other as song after song plays, and he sobers up significantly and they return to the bar for more drinks. 

“So… I don’t live very far from here,” the girl says to him, her head tilted in that classic flirty manner with her bottom lip hidden behind her teeth. He contemplates the idea for a few seconds, and stalls by slowly sipping from his glass. It could be something quick, a one time thing. He’s never done that before, so he’s a little unsure. But the girl in front of him is charming, and he really doesn’t have anything better to do tonight than watch tv-series on Netflix when he gets home. 

He’s just about to take her up on her offer when his phone pings, notifying him about a message. From her. The text reads words he’s heard her say over the phone, words she has whispered in his ears during both drunk and sober moments.

I need you.

Another message pops up seconds later.

I need to talk to you.

He excuses himself and steps away to a quieter area to call her. She picks up after two rings. 

“Hello?” her voice sounds, muffled on the other side of the line.

“Are you drunk again?” he sighs. 

“What? No, I’m not drunk.”

“Are you sure?”

“I would know if I were drunk. Listen, Shawn…” she trails off, and that’s when he hears the crack in her voice. She sounds exhausted, different. Then he hears a sniffle, and wonders if she’s been crying or if she’s sick.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m just... We should talk. About us,” she hesitates.

“Okay?” He waits for her response, seeking an explanation. 

“Can you come over? I’m at home. But I understand if you’re busy.” There’s a pause. “This is stupid. Just forget about it. Bye.” She abruptly hangs up the phone, and he’s left repeating her words in his head. 

We should talk. About us. 

They haven’t exchanged a single word in two months, not since he tried to talk about the confusing dynamic of their relationship. He never knew when she’d give him the cold shoulder or when she’d text him about some movie she’d seen recently and thought he would like. 

He makes his way back to the girl at the bar and tells her he has a family emergency. It’s enough that he’s lied to her about who he is, he doesn’t need to strike down on her self-esteem by telling her he’s abandoning her to see another girl. 

 

It’s started to drizzle when he exits the building and calls a cab. By the time the taxi arrives, he is shivering in his damp jacket. His mind is a flurry of questions for her, and for himself, when the car starts to move. On one hand he feels angry, pissed off even. Why does she think it’s a good idea to call him now? And why is he going? But he knows that he would fly across the country in a heartbeat if she needed him, which pisses him off further. On the other hand, he also wants to talk things out with her, be it for closure or for more. There’s a part of him that thinks that they can make it work. Or at least he hopes it. 

The pavement where the taxi stops across her apartment is wet, the now cascading rain leaving the asphalt gleaming. Rain lashes against his face as he hurries to enter the complex and he nearly slips outside the doorway. His hair is a wet mess when he stands outside her door, disheveled locks of hair clinging to his forehead. He takes a few seconds to push them back over his head and adjusts his jacket before ringing the bell. 

Words seem to fail his mouth with he sees her surprised face. The things he’s thought of saying are stuck inside him, and he can’t get them out. He had imagined himself spitting his words out, telling her that he’d had enough. That he was done. He’d also imagined sheltering her body in his arms, holding her close. But seeing her after so long leaves him speechless as he takes in her appearance. She looks jaded; her eyes are slightly red and puffy, hair strands falling out of her messy ponytail, but the thing that worries him most is the glass in her hand. 

“I thought you weren’t drinking.” 

“I wasn’t, not when we talked. I just poured this,” she says with a light shake of her head.

“If I know you well enough, that was full when you did,” he says, eyeing the half-empty snifter. She simply stands quietly, staring him down. He takes off his jacket and hangs it on a rack by the door. “Can I have some?” he asks. If he’s going to go through with this, he’s gonna need some liquid courage. He walks closer to her and she stretches out the glass toward him, and he gulps down half of the contents. 

“Thank you for coming. I want to talk about us,” she says tentatively. 

“So talk.” His voice is cold, and he sees her twitch when she hears his tone.

“I fucked up. I was afraid, and I wasn’t ready. You’re always touring and you’re always surrounded by other girls, and I just didn’t have the time or energy for that. And I wanted you, I wanted to be with you and I just didn’t want to get hurt, and when you told me you wanted to try, I was terrified,” she licks her lips, falling silent for a moment. “I was afraid that you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you, that not even the sex meant anything to you. And after you told me you couldn’t deal with a relationship and-” she starts with hurt in her voice, but is interrupted by him. 

“No! You said you didn’t do relationships.” The sound of his voice has increased significantly, and the room feels as hot as his head. His chest heaves, all the pent up emotions overflowing. He still doesn’t understand what she wants from him now, her words contradict each other and that frustrates him even more.

“And why do you think I said that?!” she yells back. Her pleading eyes pierce into his, and he tries to understand if there’s a point in them standing in her hallway having a screaming match. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears with her glossy eyes and clenched jaw. 

“I care about you,” he speaks in a softer voice. “And of course it was more than just sex. You meant something to me. You mean something to me. I care about you but you keep pushing me away. Every time I try to understand you, you put up this brick wall between us. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are at all. And I hate that.”

“I care about you. More than I want to. And that scares me. It scares me so much that I sometimes wish we’d never met. I hate that you make me feel this way. I hate that when I see something funny I wonder what you would think. Or that I check my phone to see if you’ve texted me when I wake up. These past months have felt like hell. I’m not the kind of girl who misses guys and thinks of them first thing in the morning. You kind of drive me nuts. But somehow I still want you. You mess me up so bad and I still want you.” She releases a heavy breath, her face carrying a dejected look.

The air between them thickens and the silence is so prominent that he can hear his heartbeat, the sounds of it racing in his chest. He slowly takes a hesitant step forward, because she looks anxious. She looks like a deer and he’s afraid she will run if he approaches her too fast. When he’s standing in front of her he lets his fingertips graze her cheek, hand moving to hold the side of her face. He rests his forehead on hers and lets out a shaky breath.

“I more than care for you, and I want to make this work.” He’s still scared. He wants to say what he actually means but he doesn’t want to push her away again. She pulls her head back, sighs then rests her forehead back against his, eyes closing. If she understands what he really means, she keeps quiet about it. 

“Don't say that. Not if you don't mean it.” Her voice is desperate with a hint of hope. 

“I mean it.”

“God, how do you do this to me?” She whispers against his lips, her warm breath ghosting over his mouth with the tangy smell of wine. “How do you drive me so fucking insane?” 

He doesn’t answer her question, instead he kisses her softly, their lips finally connecting after what feels more like years than just months. She kisses him back slowly. He savours the moment, because it’s never been like this before. There’s no rush, he takes his time to revel in the gentle pressure of her lips against his and the lingering touch of her hand around the side of his neck. His arm comes to wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer because he has missed the feeling of her warm body against his. She melts into him in a way that’s different from the way she has before, seems to leave all the control to him, giving herself up to him. Her hand moves to the back of his head, fingers threading through the damp curls. She draws back for a second and his lips chase her desperately, and he kisses along her jaw. Her hands guide his mouth back to hers and her tongue swiftly licks at his and she bites on his bottom lip, tugging lightly. Their hands roam each other’s bodies, and he basks in her familiarity. She takes a hold of his hand and starts to walk them away from the hallway, leading them to her bedroom.

They stop at the edge of her bed and she pulls at his hair and kisses him again, and he feels like he can never have enough of her taste. It’s not long before his hands slide down her body, moving along her spine to her backside. Their kisses become deeper and the urgent need between them sends a wave of heat down to his loins. He kisses her jaw and neck before kissing the cleft between her collarbones. Then his fingers move to unbutton her shirt. His lips follow the work of his fingers, kissing every new patch of skin as it’s exposed. He does this slowly, and her impatience gets the best of her and she undoes the last two buttons herself and throws the shirt to the ground. His lips trail down her stomach and he kneels in front of her, mouthing at her hips and placing kisses along the waistband of her pants while his hand travels up from the inside of her knee to the top of her thigh. 

He looks up to see her head thrown back and neck exposed. His lips move from her hip to the space below her navel and he opens his mouth, sloppily kissing the spot. She grabs a hold of his hair and sighs when he reaches up his hand and massages her breasts. Then he unbuttons her jeans and slides them down her legs. She steps out of them and looks at him with a hunger in her eyes that he knows too well. He keeps his eyes on hers and his kisses shift lower until they find the heat radiating between her thighs. His hands move to her backside and tugs at her underwear and lets them drop to the floor. He presses his lips against her sex, kissing at the skin before the tip of his tongue brushes her slit, and her grip on his hair tightens and she moans. He pushes against her knee, urging her to spread her legs. She moves one leg to the side but loses her balance and falls back on the bed. 

They both chuckle at the incident, and he stands up to look at her, in awe of how serene she looks. She’s looking at him, and only him, and he’s looking at her. He watches the way her chest rises slowly from her deep breaths, the way the side of her mouth curls up when she smiles and the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she laughs. He takes off his shirt and climbs on top of her, kissing her lips, nose, face, jaw, neck, and shoulders. He lingers there to suck on the skin, nibbling for a bit. She spreads her thighs to accommodate him, then wraps them around his waist and pushes him closer with her calf so that his body is flush against hers. 

“I’ve missed you,” she says while he moves lower to kiss the skin below her collarbones. Her fingers trace the ripples on his back and he looks up at her and stops for a moment. He sighs and rests his chin on her chest, smiling faintly. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed your sarcasm, your bad jokes and all your sass.” She laughs at his words, her smile broadening. “And I’ve missed this too,” he says. 

He proceeds to kiss down her stomach again and then moves his lips down to her opening, kissing lightly at first before moving his mouth up to suck on her clit and lightly dares to nip at it, making her cry out delightfully. The mark on the inside of her thigh catches his eye for a second and he chuckles, and then looks up and rests his nose on her pelvis. 

“I’ve missed your birthmark,” he says, tracing the outline of the dark heart shaped spot on her skin. 

“You are so adorable,” she chuckles. “And you're nowhere near as naked as I want you.”

He laughs and begins to take off his jeans and boxers. “Neither are you, he nods at her bra.” 

She reaches her hand behind her back, unhooks the bra and throws it at his face. He catches it and hold it in front of him. 

“It's pretty.” He grins, studying the silk and lace. “Sexy, actually.” 

She proceeds to throw a pillow at him and says “Come here, you're too far away.”

He obliges, falling onto the mattress next to her and turns to face her. He rests his hand against her cheek and runs his thumb along her cheekbone. She leans into his touch before shuffling closer to him and kissing him. The need to be close to her makes him restless and he takes a hold of her hips and lifts her on top of him. Her opening is positioned right on top of his erection and he groans at the feeling. She starts to move her hips against his, slowly at first before her motions quicken. He panics for a second because the slickness between her folds feels so good against him, but he doesn’t want to come like this.

“Shit, we have to stop or I'm gonna come. I’ve had several drinks and I don’t think I can go twice tonight,” he admits, a little embarrassed. 

“That’s okay. I think I’m a little tipsy, so I can’t either.” 

She stretches over him to the nightstand and her breasts are hovering right in front of his face. He can’t resist kissing her nipples, licking at the nubs. He gently tugs at one with his teeth and she shrieks. 

“It tickles!”

“How about now?” He takes the bud in his mouth and sucks gently. She goes slack above him and the arm that’s perched upon the headboard of her bed that's supporting her quivers. He releases her nipple, a content grin on his face. She smiles at him as she opens a drawer and pulls out a condom. Repositioning herself above his thighs, she tugs at the ends of the condom packet.

“Fuck, I can't get it open.” Her eyebrows crinkle and she pouts. 

“Here,” he says reaching out a hand to take the condom from her. She watches him pull at the ends and he gets frustrated for a second when the damn thing won't open. Weren't condom packs designed to fit lust filled situations? 

“Wait,” she swallows. “Have you been with anyone since the last time we…?” 

“About a week after we met, but not since the first time we had sex. You?” He dreads the answer; the thought of anybody else touching her body the way he does hurts him. His chest tightens, awaiting her response. 

“Just one person, once, about four months ago. So we can actually do this without the condom because I’m on the pill. If you want, that is,” she says, her voice lowering at the end. 

“I've never done that before, but yeah. I want to.” He feels like a horny fifteen-year-old, the mere idea of having sex without a condom making him harder.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 

“Yeah. I trust you.” He’s well aware of the potential consequences, but he does trust her. He picks up the condom and puts it on the nightstand. He reaches up to touch her face and then brings her down to kiss her again. He parts from her lips for a second and looks into her eyes. His hand comes up from its place on her waist to touch her face, thumb stroking over her cheek before he holds the side of her head and strokes her hair. “Are you sure? Do you want to do this?” He lifts his head a little bit so he can see the expression on her face, searching for any signs of uncertainty. 

“It's okay, I promise,” she reassures him and gives him smiles faintly. She takes a hold of his face with her hands and brings his mouth back to hers before kissing him deeply, with an amount of passion that makes his head spin. He flips them over and soon enough, he’s moving down her body, covering as much of her skin as he can with kisses, but she stops him when he nears her belly button with a light tug at his hair. 

“I want you,” she whispers. He smiles up at her before moving back up so that their faces are level with each other. 

“Okay,” he smiles. He wraps a hand around the back of her thigh and guides her leg around his back. Her hand comes down to place his shaft at her entrance and she moves her hips up against his eagerly, placing a hand at the small of his back to encourage him. He slips in between her swollen folds slowly, and whines at the new sensation of her walls around him without the latex barrier. She’s soft, wet, and warm around his length and he thinks he’s going to come the second he bottoms out, the pleasure making him gasp. Her reaction isn’t very different from his; she’s got her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut as a low moan slips past her lips. 

He remains still for a while, nestles his nose in her cheek as he collects himself . She runs her fingers along the side of his face, tracing his features. Her index finger moves along the bridge of his nose and down to his lips, slowly dragging his bottom lip down before brushing her thumb along it. She tilts her head forward to kiss him, a slow burn igniting between their lips. 

“As much as I like to watch you try to hold yourself together like this, I really need you to move,” she giggles. He chuckles at her, then steadies himself before slowly retracting his hips.The new feeling almost overwhelms him, so he takes his time to gently sheath himself inside her again. He repeats the motions a few times at an unhurried pace, adjusting to the sensation, then starts to thrust rapidly. Her lips wander the skin of his neck and shoulders and her hands play with his curls. 

As his deep movements inside her grow quicker he struggles to keep his balance above her and supports himself by holding onto the headboard above them. She writhes beneath him, smooth legs wrapped around his middle, and hands touching his face and chest. He takes in her scent, a perfume he’s come to love, mixed with the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Dipping his face to kiss the irresistible skin of her neck, he nibbles at the soft skin before pulling back. 

Her body moves in sync with his, and she encourages him to pick up his pace as her fingers stretch across his back, fingertips hooking onto his shoulder blade. He takes in her soft moans that grow louder as he does, the unrestrained reverberations that sound like a siren song. He’s overcome with a need to be closer to her, although there’s hardly a way for them to be. But he tries anyway, draping his arm around her midriff and lifting her closer to his chest while he holds himself up by his forearm. His mouth moves to hers, the sounds between them muffled as sloppy kisses are exchanged. Instead, the sound of the skin of his hips slapping against the back of her thighs becomes prominent, as well as the bangs of the headboard hitting the wall every now and then. His body grows slick with sweat and he feels a pressure building in his pelvis. 

“I’m so close. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she exhales. 

He takes a hold of her hand and intertwines their fingers before bringing it to his mouth and kissing its backside, earning a smile from her. She keeps her eyes on his while she pulsates around his length, and he knows she’s about to come. Her walls contract around his shaft as she comes, her body stiffening beneath him and her breaths becoming shallow. The waves of contractions draw him closer to his orgasm and he helplessly groans against her shoulder. He groans against her throat when he comes, his movements slowing down before he comes to a halt inside her. They lie still, his body slumped upon hers while they catch their breaths, hearts slowing down. 

It eventually comes to his senses that he can’t stay buried inside her forever when she taps his shoulder, giving him a pleading look. He rolls over so that he’s lying next to her, but misses the feeling of her skin against his and draws her close to him with his arms. She falls in with his body, throwing her leg across his thighs. They stay close for a while until she tells him that she needs to clean up and runs to the bathroom with her hand between her thighs. He laughs at the sight, and it fades to a smile when she turns back to flip him off. He wonders how she can look so endearing when naked with her hand on her crotch, because she does. When she returns, he goes to the bathroom to rid himself of the condom. 

Afterward, they lie together with her leg across his and her head on his chest while his arm rests around her waist and his hand plays with her hair. He keeps his eyes shut while they exchange lighthearted words and affectionate touches. Eventually, he lets her do the talking when he becomes drowsy; he’s so exhausted that he can’t even bring himself to mumble in response. She stops for a moment, asks him if he’s awake, and he wills his mind to speak, but his lips won’t move and his throat doesn’t seem to want to make any sounds. 

She lifts her head from his chest for a second, then whispers: “I think I'm in love with you. And I'm scared.” He feels her head fall back on his chest and his eyes snap open at her words. She pauses, breathes deeply and he wonders what she’s thinking of. “I love how passionate you are about music. I love that you’re so fiercely you, that you refuse to change although the only thing consistent around you is change. I love that you’re so humble and caring.” Another pause. “I love your weird sense of humour. I love the way you laugh with your entire body. I love the way you smell. I love that you stop to pet every dog you see.” 

She laughs at her last sentence and a smile grows on his face, and he feels like his heart is going to break out of his ribcage. He wonders for a moment if he’s dreaming, thinks that this isn’t happening. But she continues stroking his side and tells him things he’s not sure she would in the wake of daylight. He wants to be fair to her and tell her that he’s awake, but he also wants to know what she has to say, and he wants the latter more, so he let’s her believe that he’s fast asleep. 

“I don't know what you're doing to me. You've changed me in a way nobody ever has before. I find myself thinking of you a lot. I'm not this person, and while it's scary, you also make me happy. I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along fighting my feelings for you and giving in to you, I fell in love. I’m such a mess all the time, but when I’m with you, I feel like I’m standing on steady ground, and I thank you for that. Yeah, I love you.” 

Not long after, her breaths slow down and her fingers stop moving against him. She’s asleep but he knows he won’t be able to sleep for a good while despite being too tired to talk just minutes ago. She’s like Pandora’s box, and he feels like the night’s events have unlocked it, releasing everything that’s been hidden inside. 

 

Shawn wakes with the heat of the sun on his skin, the light almost blinding him when he opens his eyes. He groans, burying his face in the pillow under his head. Turning his face to the side, his eyes land on the sleeping figure next to him. She's lying on her stomach, her bare back slowly rising and sinking with every breath. He moves a lock of hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear. She stirs, but remains asleep. He studies her face curiously, the slope of her nose that's slightly turned up at the end, the fullness of her parted lips, and the tiny dots of her post-coital flush around her eyes and down her neck. He’s never really had the chance to admire her like this. She looks so exposed to him in that moment, asleep like that. He wonders if anyone more beautiful has ever existed. Helen of Troy, or Cleopatra perhaps. But then again, she’d still be the most beautiful to him. His eyes trail down her back to the blanket resting at the end of her spine. He traces the line in the middle of her back to the space between her shoulder blades. She whines, a frown settling on her face as she is awoken. 

“Good morning,” he smiles at her. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” 

“Maybe.”

“That’s creepy,” she mumbles. 

“No it’s not. It’s… poetic. They do it in the movies.”

“It’s creepy is what it is,” she chuckles. “You're literally watching someone without them knowing while they’re unconscious.” 

“See, it’s creepy when you put it like that,” he pouts. 

She laughs, moving closer to him to place a comforting kiss on a darkening mark on his shoulder. He shifts his arm to wrap around her shoulder and she moves closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Her fingertips drag along his chest and stomach, moving in waves across his skin. His thoughts wander to the words she whispered last night. How she had hesitantly, finally, said those words. He knows that he feels the same, and he wonders if he should say them back. He wants to. He slowly takes a deep breath and exhales. 

“Your heart’s racing. You okay?”

“I love you. Like, I’m in love with you,” he swallows. 

She lifts her head off his chest and faces him, and he wonders if it’s her heartbeat that accelerates or his. It must be hers, because his own heart feels like it’s stopped beating and his lungs feel like they’ve collapsed. He can’t believe that he’s said it. In that moment, the seconds that pass between them feel like torturous hours, and he feels so many things. Shock. Regret. Fear. Hurt. 

Then she smiles. Her hands cup his face and she presses her lips against his gently. He’s taken aback by the action at first, but as realisation dawns on him, he reciprocates her kiss. She draws back a second later, eyes closed and lips resting just above his. 

“I love you,” she whispers, with a smiles that grazes his lips. He feels like he can breathe again, and his heart no longer feels static. She doesn’t repeat the things she had whispered to him in the dark the previous night, but that’s okay for now because she’s in his arms and she’s so warm against him, and he feels like he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've come this far, I hope you've had a good time, and if you did know that a kudos or a comment goes a long way! I'm still on tumblr as purebeanshawn if you want to request something or just talk to me!


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